


A Few Good Men

by LYK (VergofTowels)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing, enjoy, making shit up, not historically accurate, sneeze, winging the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VergofTowels/pseuds/LYK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission to hunt down Choshu rebels, Hijikata feels ill.  Then things go to shit.</p>
<p>Written for a kind person for Secret Santa.  A gen fic with subtle hints of my ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Few Good Men

**Author's Note:**

> This is not accurate to the timeline of the game or anime (I have only played some of the paths in the 3DS game) but is set post-Ikedaya Incident.

It was dark among the trees on the mountainside, but at least they offered some protection from the wind and the snow. Before they had entered the cover of the forest, the flakes had been driving into them, biting exposed flesh like horseflies in the summer. Hijikata’s fingers and face still stung and ached with cold as he drew up beside the other captains. Okita and Heisuke were leading the small group of men that remained with them into a small clearing in the lee of a thicket of pines. The moon overhead was obscured by clouds, and the going was difficult, though their enemies from Choshu would have a harder time seeing them as well.

Hijikata hoped that the fighting was over for the night. They had driven off several bands of rebels since that afternoon, and cut down many. The air had steamed with the heat of spilled blood. His arms felt heavy now, and he was desperate to rest. However, the wellbeing of the Shinsengumi came first.

“Well, you look like death warmed over,” said Okita as Hijikata joined him. There was a smile in his voice, though his breathing was labored. The sleeves of his haori were stained and stiff. “Bit much for you?”

“Speak for yourself.” Hijikata slapped his shoulder. “I knew I should have left you at headquarters with the girl.”

“Oh, I’m sure Gen-san can take care of it,” Okita replied. “I’d be bored to tears on babysitting duty. Besides, I’m fighting fit, as always.” He pulled his haori closer, though, and covered his mouth as he coughed. By the end of it, he was bent nearly double, wheezing.

Hijikata thinned his lips. “Sit down before you fall down. Heisuke and I can take care of making camp.”

Too breathless to argue, Okita nodded, and stepped a little uncertainly away to tuck himself up with his company. Hijikata quickly found Heisuke directing his own men and together they sorted out sleeping shifts and guards. After an hour, the two of them sat themselves at the head of the clearing, leaning toward a fire that was no brighter – and hardly bigger – than a candle flame. Its faint heat was welcome, though. Heisuke stretched his palms toward it.

“It’s sure cold out tonight,” he said, unnecessarily. “Wonder how Sano’s doing on the other side. Hope he wore a coat.”

Hijikata snorted and then coughed as it irritated his throat. “He wouldn’t die even if he came out here naked.” Lucky bastard. Hijikata tucked his hands into his sleeves and hunched over. “We’ll see him tomorrow at the rendezvous.”

“Yeah.” Despite the circumstances they found themselves in, Heisuke seemed cheerful. “Wish we were back in Yoshiwara instead of this forest.” He sighed and started humming a tune he no doubt remembered from one such visit to the red-light-district. He stopped, guilty, as Hijikata cleared his throat. “Ah, that is, I wish we were training!”

But the demon vice-commander wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he seemed to be staring into the small flame, eyes half-lidded, brows drawn. As Heisuke watched, confused, Hijikata lifted a hand to his face and viciously pinched his nose.

“Hngtt! Hkngt!” He let out a breath after sneezing, irritated, then closed his eyes again. The last sneeze he couldn’t quite stifle – “Hgt-tssch!” – and he sniffed hard as he straightened. “No need to lie,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “I would rather be drinking sake in a pleasure house than freezing my ass off out here, too.”

Heisuke nodded. “There was a lovely geisha they called Akemi at Gyouren…. Ah, what a beauty. She had Shinpachi wrapped around her finger by the time the night was over.” He sighed again. “And whoever her girl was, plucking at the shamisen… Ugh, she couldn’t play, but I wouldn’t have minded if she’d spent the whole night bending my ear.”

“You spend too much time out there anyway,” replied Hijikata. His good humor was leaving him, apparently, and he was frowning at the falling snow. “There are more important things to think about.” He felt a touch of guilt as the words left his mouth. Heisuke was so young, still growing out of the clothes of a boy. But it was foolish to dwell on that when they were engaged in a very real war. 

“Ah, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Heisuke rubbed his arms and fell silent. They listened for an hour or so to the faint crackle of the fire and the soft, hushed footsteps of the guards shifting at the perimeter of the camp. Finally, as the deep of the night seemed to swallow even those faint stirrings, Heisuke yawned. 

“Go and take some sleep. If Souji is awake, send him to the fireside.” Hijikata’s voice rasped into being and faded as quickly into a hesitant breath. “Hh… Nnght! Hngtt!” Speaking had apparently awakened an itch that that had been sleeping, and he covered his face again, expression pained. 

Heisuke nodded and rose, clumsy with cold. “Yes, sir. …Take care of yourself.” He left the shuddering pool of light for the shadow of the pines. Before he joined his own company, he went to the side to see if Okita was alert.

The captain of the first squadron looked up at Heisuke’s coming, face pale against the backdrop of bark. He was sitting calmly, quietly. Over his shoulders was draped the haori of one of his men, though he shrugged it off when Heisuke came within speaking distance.

“Hijikata-san said-”

“Aa, got it.” Okita shifted. “I’ll go keep the watch.” He rose to take his place.

Hijikata was curled in on himself against the cold and he didn’t acknowledge the brunet sitting beside him, though he grunted when Okita poked the fire back into a little more life.

“You ever sleep?” 

Hijikata grunted again. “I’m not tired,” he said, though it was a clear lie. 

Okita shrugged. “Well. I suppose that’s fair.” It didn’t bear contesting. He sighed, a light sound, cautious. It rattled slightly in his chest. “I hear the Fury Corps is on the move tonight, though there are reports that the snow is really mounting in the higher reaches. I wish I was out there with them. Killing gets the blood boiling.” He smiled, to show he was joking. Probably.

“Just take the chance to rest when it’s given to you.” Hijikata looked out among the trees. 

“Aa.” Okita touched their shoulders together… and after a moment, frowned. “Hijikata-san, you’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.” Though the vice-commander did rub his arms… and his nose. It was bothering him again, had been since they’d settled. The cold pricked at his sinuses. He massaged the bridge of his nose and then the tip, then had to pinch his nostrils shut. His nose felt hot to his frozen fingers, and it twinged a bit painfully as his breath caught.

Okita covered a yawn beside him, leaning slightly against him to subtly conserve warmth. “You’re so stubborn.”

Hijikata bent at the waist. “Hh… Nngt! Like you’re one to talk.” His head ached.

Okita raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s talking about you, Hijikata-san. Nice things, I hope… Though is that likely?”

Hijikata sniffed, carefully releasing his nose. Perhaps he would be lucky and it would behave now. It stung, and it felt as if his skull had been stuffed, but he thought he was done for the moment. “Stop jabbering.”

“Haaa, if you insist.” The younger man covered another yawn – or perhaps a cough – and stilled, eyes carefully scanning the camp and the forest around them. The snow continued to fall, the flakes heavier now, and wetter. The wind pushed it idly through the pines, though with less force than before. Soft drifts were forming on the packs of the Shinsengumi and against the restlessly sleeping men.

There was no disturbance during the night – an unexpected blessing. Perhaps the work of the Fury Corps, though Hijikata did not receive news from them during the night. He concentrated on keeping watch and trying not to fall asleep. And if possible, keeping the cold and his discomfort at bay. 

The fire burned out before dawn, both Hijikata and Okita seeing it to its end. Somewhere in the woods, a branch cracked and sent a ripple of nerves through the camp. It was time to move on.

\---

Over the course of the night, the trails of the forest had been all but obliterated with snow. Here and there signposts erected by local villagers, washed out by weather, tilted among the trees. They provided little assistance to men who were unfamiliar with the area. Hijikata had a map that had been drawn for him before they started this expedition. He now scrutinized it as the group of soldiers around him paused in making their inexorable way forward.

“We’re supposed to rendezvous with Sano-san by Shiroyama, are we not?” asked Okita, at his elbow. “I think that’s a right, then, don’t you?” The night spent awake in such weather had roughened his voice.

“Shut up, Souji; I’m reading the map.” The lines were blurring at the folds and the corners curled with damp, even though Hijikata had kept it in an oiled bag. The snow just permeated everything out here. He felt an uncontrollable shiver go through him as the wind found his skin through his wet clothes. “Hh… It’s a right.” He replaced the map in his sleeve and covered his mouth and nose, but couldn’t stifle the sneezes that had crept up on him. “Haettch! Aettsch!”

“Goodness,” Okita said, rather dryly. 

“I’m fine.” Hijikata scowled at him and pinched his nose. “Hnngt!” His head throbbed and his throat and sinuses ached more sharply every hour. He shivered again, but despite the chill, he felt almost that he was sweating. A fever, maybe… “After we reconvene with the second group, we’ll be heading back to headquarters.” 

“Aa.” Okita gave him a bit of a sideways look, but readied himself to keep trekking through the snow.

Suddenly, a voice erupted from the tree cover ahead. “Hijikata-fukucho! Hijikata-fukucho!” The men braced themselves, but it was one of their own, a man from Harada’s company. He was breathless and his clothing torn from his flight through the woods. 

“What is it?” Hijikata put his hand on the hilt of his katana. This wasn’t going to be good news.

“We were… we were ambushed.” The man stumbled and Heisuke steadied him. “Warriors from Choshu. They came over the ridge last night.”

Murmurs sprang up through the camp and Hijikata tried to concentrate. “What’s the state of the company now?”

“Harada-san was forced to take our remaining men into the pass. There’s probably only six or seven left.” He coughed and swayed again. “He sent me to forewarn you. There are probably still rebels out there.” 

“Damn it.” 

Heisuke and Okita shared a look. With luck, the Fury Corps had taken care of at least some of the ambushing force over the night, but there had yet been no word. Troubling, but perhaps not unusual. Sannan’s group of wild men became stranger day by day, and the line of communication was a fragile one. 

“We’ll go to the pass,” said Hijikata. 

“Sounds like Sano-san could use our help, yeah,” said Heisuke. He steadied the messenger again. “Can you still walk, man? You can take up the rear here. We’ll get you some food and water.” He shifted him forward and through the ranks.

Okita cleared his throat. “I hope we’re not walking into another trap,” he remarked. If there were only a few enemy combatants left, there wouldn’t be any trouble. Heisuke was in the best shape, but the three leaders could still hold their own, and with superior numbers it would be an assured victory. However, if Choshu had sent forces like Kazama and his ilk into the ambush…

“So do I.” Hijikata coughed into his sleeve. “But we don’t have a choice.”

\---

It took two hours to reach the mouth of the pass where Harada had been routed last night. Signs of battle littered the landscape as they drew closer – snow churned and bloody beneath the lightest of fresh coverings. Footprints dashed off through the trees. Nearer to the drop, bodies in blue half-sunken in fallen pine needles and drifts of white, like ships lost from their mooring. From somewhere below, a shout echoed faintly, reverberating weirdly off the exposed mountain rock. The captains drew their swords.

“Heisuke.” Hijikata beckoned him over. After a short and quiet discussion, it was decided that the youngest captain would take his company through the trees around the top of the pass, to hunt down possible attackers from above. Hijikata and Okita would go through the pass to find Harada and take care of things inside.

The threat of looming combat woke Hijikata’s reflexes, but though he treaded lightly down the steep and unstable slope, mountains rising on either side, he felt stiff through his shoulders. His face felt hot, his skull too small. He hoped that if he were to meet an opponent here, the bout would be brief. He was completely willing to die for the shogun, but he hoped for that death to mean something.

As he and Okita and their men spread out and advanced, more shouting came from below, accompanied by the distant ring of swords clashing. Far down the slope, a small battle was raging. The blues of the Shinsengumi were visible alongside the darker colored clothing of their enemies. Hijikata thought he could see Harada’s red hair glinting in the frosty sunlight.

“Souji!”

“Got it!” Okita took off toward the fighting. Hijikata was set to follow, but a crunch in the snow behind him stopped him in his tracks. He whipped around just in time to block an overhand strike from a dark-eyed Choshu retainer clad in sage green.

“Coward!” Hijikata pushed him away and leapt back to put some distance between them. He sank into a practiced stance, arm stinging slightly from deflecting the attack. His enemy had also settled into an offensive position. With a chance to look at him properly, Hijikata recognized him as Murata Aritomo, a young man whose family had served the Mori clan for several generations. 

“I prefer to think of it as strategy,” Murata said, before coming at him again. “How else would I expect to stand up to the demon vice-commander of the Shinsengumi?” His voice held a mocking lilt, however, and his onslaught was ferocious. Around him, though he could spare little attention, Hijikata heard other attackers setting in. “Your days of leading this rag-tag bunch are numbered, however,” Murata growled, circling. “You seem to be in bad shape, fukucho.”

“I’d have to be dead to fall to your blade,” snapped Hijikata, though he wasn’t sure how much of his bravado he could back up. He was already tiring, and, now of all times, his nose and throat were itching badly. After blocking another quick blow, he faltered and bowed his head, bent to the efforts of a wrenching sneeze. “Hraettsch!” He gave up one step, two… and then pivoted, gaining a shallow cut across the left forearm but no more serious damage.

“That can certainly be arranged,” hissed Murata, pressing his advantage. He’d clearly slept through the night and his limbs were supple and strong. Hijikata found himself backing down the slope, unsteady. How shameful to be in such a position to a man he would have easily dispatched from an equal start. He could hardly breathe between blows, though his traitorous body still wracked him with chills and coughing as he went.

Finally, the fight paused. Hijikata was left standing on the edge of a ditch that ran down the side of the pass. Its winding track was scored deep through the rock by summer snowmelt. Now it ran with a sluggish mix of icy slush and mud, choked with broken branches, leaves, and other forest detritus. 

“You fought well,” said Murata. “But this is the end.” He thrust out at Hijikata, blade flashing in the sun. Hijikata couldn’t lift his sword in time to counter. Luckily – perhaps the first lucky break he’d seen from this cold – he was bent again with a sneeze, dodging the fatal strike though sending him into the ditch. 

He cried out involuntarily as he crashed down and rolled. In moments, his hakama and haori were soaked with dirty water. His hands were numb from the shock of the ice. The wind was knocked out of him as he fetched up against a fallen tree, a sharp limb jabbing into his stomach. He felt his consciousness going from the pain, but before he blacked out, he thought he heard a scream from above. Then, the shushing of the stream, and then nothing.

\---

“It wasn’t as if it was that bad of a fall.”

“He did get stabbed by a tree branch…”

“Aha, something like that would be nothing to me!”

“Shut up, Sano-san!”

“All of you, be quiet. You’re going to wake him.”

“Uh, uh, should I make some tea?”

“Aww, Chizuru-chan, why not? It’ll certainly make us feel better.”

The world came back in stages, as if Hijikata were pushing aside layer after layer of silk. His limbs felt heavy, impossible to move. His body felt smothered in heat. Belatedly, he realized that he must be lying under a thick blanket, or several. When he opened his eyes, it was to the brightness of his own room in Shinsengumi headquarters.

“Oh, he’s awake!” came the excited voice of Heisuke. A moment later, his face came into view above Hijikata. “How are you feeling, Hijikata-san?” Heisuke’s bangs were all in disarray and he had bandages around his neck, but his smile shone and told Hijikata that not much was wrong with him.

“Like shit.” If he had inhaled a pitcher of water his chest could hardly have felt worse; it ached and his breathing dragged. He’d been propped up with a fold of fabric to ease the process, but it was still annoying. As he woke up further, he also became aware that his nose, troublesome again, gave him almost no notice before sending him into a painful paroxysm. “Haettsch! Hgtttsch! Hh-aettschh!” The sneezing curled him in on himself and he was left gasping as his stomach spasmed in alarming agony. 

Heisuke was quick to steady him, laying a hand on his back. “Whoa, Hijikata-san, easy there!”

“You’re quite ill,” said Gen-san, also moving to be visible. His kind face was creased with concern. “Matsumoto-sensei examined you earlier, though you were not very aware. You have a sickening of the lungs, from the cold and your time in the water. He believes it to be an aggravated cold, but hopefully nothing worse. You also sustained a wound from a broken branch in the ravine.”

“Ah, right…” The events on the mountainside were coming back to him. His fight with Murata, the fall… Several rough and hazy days thereafter travelling back to headquarters, cloudy with fever. He didn’t recall most of the details. “The battle-”

“We won,” said Harada. “Though we lost a lot of men.” The captains looked momentarily grim. “In the end, they retreated out back toward Satsuma. We didn’t pursue them.” The forces of the shogun stood then, though after such a slaughter it was unlikely the Shinsengumi would be enjoying any less vitriol from the Kyoto populace than was usual.

“I took care of your bothersome friend,” said Okita, sitting by the door. “You can thank me later.” He also had bandages wrapped here and there and bore a worrying pallor. Hijikata was upset to see that he was wearing a much heavier coat than the other captains present, though Okita would likely sneer at him and lambast him for his “mothering” if he said anything. 

“Tch.” He would speak to Okita about this in private if the younger man would allow it. But that would come later. “I’m sure if I hadn’t slipped, there would have been no need for you to be there at all.”

Okita rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Not unless your plan was to sneeze on Murata. Though I agree that that probably would have scared him off.” He pulled a mocking face.

“Souji,” said Saito.

“Enough, enough!” said Kondo, stepping into the room. “Both of you have to rest. I just finished speaking with the doctor and he says you’re both not to leave the sickbed for at least a couple of weeks.” He raised a hand to stop their protests, and any further argument. With the two of them, Kondo’s word was the end. “Toshi, I’ll keep you caught up with what’s going on here and with the officials, but right now you’re to focus on recovering.”

“And no,” said Harada, anticipating Hijikata’s answer, “you’re not fine!”

“Cheeky brat,” said Hijikata with a growl, but he had to concede. He would rest, for now, and get back to himself, and respect, although grudgingly that the men he was fighting so hard to protect wanted to protect him, too.


End file.
